Log: Incomplete

[velated-v.livejournal.com]

When; Saturday Night ( The same day that V's bombshell hit)

Rating; PG-13 ( possibly bumped up to R for Gore)

Characters; V velated_v, Walter Dorneaz dertodesbutler, James Sunderland re_enaction, Heather Morris bustsomeheads

Summary; After reading that the world may be coming to an end, James takes off into the underground to hunt down and kill Pyramid Head right then and there.
V and Walter had been planning a 'hunt' to kill the fiend and keep PH from randomly attacking V, Evey, and other visitors to the underground.
Heather, refusing to let James go alone, follows him, and straaaaange things happen from that point on.

Log;

"Of all the days in the time since the horrors have taken up permanent residence in the underground, you choose today to go pelting off into the maintenence tunnels..." V grumbled to himself as he hurried toward the platform.

He had a bad feeling James may have grown impatient at the delay, and thus taken off into the dark and twisting labyrinth on his own with only an impossibly large machete for protection, and no notion of where the creature could be waiting.

His suspicions increased as he saw the empty platform, and distinctly felt a headache coming after he had surveyed the edge closely, and noted footprints in the dusty area near the gap. Footprints that led off into the darkness.

"If you get lost and run down by the train, it would serve you right.." He remarked irritably under his breath.
(V, of course, would rather no one came to harm in the underground, otherwise he would not be here, waiting for the odd american, but at the same time, did not approve of hasty , and thus dangerous, actions)


Checking his pocket watch, he noted Walter should be arriving any moment, and perhaps Ms. Morris as well...if she wasn't already lost in the tunnels herself.

Comments

[velated-v.livejournal.com]

Skidding to a halt at the sound of gunfire, V looked fervantly between the racing shadow that was Walter, and the embattled Heather.

With a muttered curse he turned back and neatly flipped a blade from it's sheath, then let it fly to take another creature in what would be the solar plexus on a human.

The impact knocked the thing back enough that it was effectively moved from her path.

My god...the horrors were everywhere! Like they were melting from the shadows themselves!

He could not remember ever seeing so many in one place, let alone this close to light and the main line.


He waited only long enough for her to gain some ground, and catch up a bit before following the mettalic screams down the twisting tunnels. Walter's shadow would now flash around corners here and there, but only when V was able to catch up enough.

[dertodesbutler.livejournal.com]

The fire of bloodlust was in him now, and Walter perhaps wouldn't have stopped until he found the source of the scent, if it wasn't for a swathe of monsters blocking his path. He skidded to a halt before a roiling mass of bodies.

"So, you think you can prevent us from getting to that thing, do you?" He said, coldly, body tensed, eyes full of icy rage. Behind him, he heard V's near-silent feet catching up, the thud of blade into deep bone and the crack of Heather's rifle. He'd almost forgotten about them in the blur of the chase. "It's not as if I haven't faced any army of ghouls before." He said, flexing his fingers. "All I need to do is carve path through you."

Moaning and shuffling, the grotesque, multi-legged creatures came closer, a hideous wave of bodies. Walter met them with the whirring of wires and the flying of metal weights, tangling among the limbs, slicing and slipping through dead flesh and bone, spilling rotting long-stilled blood on the ground.

[re-enaction.livejournal.com]

The screech and grind of metal against metal rang in James' ears as his knife and the Pyramid Head's knife clashed. His heart was pounding and adrenaline was flowing fast like the blood from his shoulder as he grit his teeth and let out a strangled sound of exertion from the back of his throat. Deep, jumbled groaning noises and the sound of low mumbling filled the air; and though James had learned to associate the noise with the monster, now he swore he could hear the name "Mary" whispered among the moans. It became clearer and clearer until it was a scream, and with another swing of the great knife he realized that the scream held the qualities of his own voice, that his lips were moving to form the name of his wife. His fucking bitch of wife god he loved her so much. The sickening sound of flesh ripping came then as his knife came into contact with the monster's torso, tearing through the skin apron and into the muscle below. "Die" James growled in a voice that hardly sounded like his own as he shoved the sword deeper. At the same time the monster's gloved hand shot towards him and wrapped around his throat. Knife still in a death grip, James felt his feet leave the concrete ground as he stared at the filthy, rusted metal of the Executioner's helmet. He could hardly breathe and his vision was going black, but with all his strength he twisted the knife, relishing in the sound it made. It was a curious thing that a monster like that did not bleed.